


Sarah Smiles

by sixoutoften



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 14:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixoutoften/pseuds/sixoutoften
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/688283">Part two</a>
</p></blockquote>





	Sarah Smiles

_Sarah lay on her back, her head falling to the side and leaning on Brendon's chest. Brendon's arm was wrapped around her, his opposite hand reaching over to twirl her soft black hair in his fingers._

_"I love you," Sarah said, smiling; moments like these were her favorite._

_"I love you too, doll," Brendon answered, placing a gentle kiss to Sarah's temple._

_Sarah's smile faded, and she shook free from Brendon's light grasp, sitting up and swinging her feet over the edge of the bed. Brendon, growing worried, sat up next to her. "Babe, what's wrong?" he asked. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He knew that, if she was mad at him for something he'd said or done, she wouldn't want him to hold her like he was, but he couldn't bear to see her upset, not even for a second._

_"You used to call Ryan your doll," Sarah said simply._

_Brendon sighed, somewhat relieved that there was no other, more serious issue. He turned to face Sarah. "I'm done with Ryan," he said sincerely, grabbing her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze._

_"Promise?"_

_"Yes, I promise." Brendon said, smiling._

_"And promise you'll never go back to him."_

_"I promise."_

_Sarah let her head fall back so it landed on Brendon's shoulder, craning her neck to look up at him. "And promise you love me."_

_"I promise," Brendon said quickly and wholeheartedly, "I love you more than life itself, and I always will." He leaned in to place a soft, sweet kiss to her lips._

_The two pulled away, smiles beaming, and the fell back onto the bed, snuggling close and awaiting slumber._  

A sincere promise, sealed with a kiss. A promise that, as far as Sarah knew, remained kept from then until now. There was always the possibility that Brendon would break the promise and go back to Ryan, if only for a night or two. There was always the chance that he had lied about being over Ryan, and that he still loved his beloved doll more than he loved Sarah. There was even a chance he didn't love Sarah at all. But she always disregarded these possibilities, shrugged the thoughts off her shoulders and told herself Brendon would never do such a thing as lying or cheating.

But here she is, standing in the doorway of hers and Brendon's bedroom, eyes watery and mouth agape as she stares at the sight before her. Brendon, hair mussed and clothes off, the covers pulled up to his bare waist. Ryan, hair equally unruly and body equally uncovered, has his lanky arms wrapped around Brendon.

Sarah brings a hand to her mouth, suppressing a whimper as tears spill over her eyelashes. She holds her breath to keep from waking either of the two men up, but she chokes on her tears and cries out, her voice pained.

Brendon stirs, and his eyes flutter open. He sees Sarah by the door and his eyes shoot open, and he shrugs Ryan's arms off of him, causing him to awaken as well. "Sarah…!" Brendon says, his voice raspy, climbing out of the bed and fumbling to pull on a pair of boxers—Ryan's—and stumbling toward Sarah.

Sarah shakes her head, unable to form words, and she turns to run out the door and down the hall. Brendon runs after her, cringing, stopping at the front door to find that Sarah has taken off down the sidewalk, heading to her apartment.

Brendon leans on the door frame, letting out a sigh of disbelief. This shouldn't have happened. It wasn't supposed to. But Ryan had shown up out of the blue, while Sarah was at work.

He and Brendon hadn't spoken for a long time prior. But Ryan stood there on the doorstep, a seemingly sincere smile on his face. He'd apologized so many times that Brendon had to believe him. Ryan had hugged him, and Brendon hugged back, and that's all it was supposed to be. Just a hug. No more.

But Ryan had pressed his lips to Brendon's, and Brendon pulled away abruptly. "What do you think you're doing?" he'd asked.

"It's just a thank-you kiss. For forgiving me. That's all."

Brendon nodded and opened his mouth to speak, to tell Ryan to go home. But Ryan had inched closer, pushing Brendon back against the wall and reaching back to close the door behind him.

Brendon had tried pushing him away, his hands fumbling to get a grip on the elder's body. But Ryan grabbed his hands, braiding their fingers together like twine. Brendon had turned his head so that Ryan's lips pressed instead against his cheek. "Ryan, stop," he'd said, his voice muffled.

"Just a thank-you…" Ryan had said, his tongue trailing along Brendon's jaw. His lips once again met Brendon's, his arms wrapping around the younger's waist.

Brendon managed to place his hands on Ryan's chest, and he shoved his thin body away. Ryan looked insulted.

"What is it, Bear?"

"Don't call me that anymore," Brendon ordered seriously. "I'm not doing this with you. I can't, and I won't."

"Aw, why not?" Ryan asked, walking toward Brendon. His arms snaked over Brendon's shoulders, planting a kiss on his neck. Brendon shrugged him off.

"I'm with Sarah. I promised her I would never go back to you." 

"You can break a promise just once, right, Bear?"

"I  _won't_."

"Come on, Brendon, don't you want to? Just because you made a stupid promise to your little girlfriend, you're acting like you don't love me?"

Brendon simply stared back at the older man.

"Tell me, Bear, is your precious Sarah here right now?"

"She's at work."

"So, what are you afraid of? She'll never know."

Brendon paused before answering. "She could come home early."

"Has she ever before?" Brendon shook his head. "Then come on," Ryan said, taking Brendon's hand in his, "I promise you, Sarah will never find out." Ryan placed a kiss on Brendon's lips—soft, sweet, the kind of kiss Brendon loved. He'd tried not to love it, but his mind flashed back to the times when he and Ryan were in love, when everyday started with a light kiss, lips gently brushing together. Brendon, letting his mind wander, opened his mouth, his tongue slip into the elder's mouth. Ryan cupped Brendon's cheek in his free hand, his fingertips gracing the younger's hair.

Brendon continued to dream about him and Ryan. He remembered how the two could spend hours together, not saying a word, but still enjoying the time, sharing a kiss now and again to bring smiles to their faces. He remembered how every fight they had could be settled with a soft, apologetic kiss to the cheek. He remembered how one fight couldn't be resolved, and the two stayed mad at each other for days. He even remembered when he'd woken up one morning to find Ryan gone, nowhere to be found. He remembered how hard he'd cried, how much it'd hurt him to have his boyfriend leave without a warning. He'd honestly still loved Ryan, but he'd known he clearly wasn't loved back.

Brendon had pulled away as the memory of Ryan leaving him had arrived. He left just inches between the two, and he could see a smile spread wide across Ryan's face. Brendon hadn't smiled back; he'd simply stood still, a statue against the wall. Ryan moved forward, turning on his heel and heading toward the bedroom, squeezing Brendon's hand in false comfort.

Brendon had refused to move as Ryan tugged his arm. The elder's smile faded and he pulled Brendon hard, the younger stumbling and unwillingly walking with Ryan to the bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, Ryan had let go of Brendon's hand, closing the door. Brendon sat on the edge of the bed, his expression unchanging. Ryan moved closer to him, grinning cruelly. He sat next to Brendon, immediately leaning in for a kiss. He forced his tongue into Brendon's mouth, his arms hung loosely over the younger's shoulders. Brendon's arms remained at his sides.

Ryan leaned forward, pushing Brendon onto his back, not breaking the kiss. He knelt over the younger man, his arms creeping into Brendon's shirt, his fingers icy and sending chills down Brendon's spine. Brendon wanted to shove his hands away, but he didn't move a muscle, frozen in some sort of fear.

Ryan pulled the hem of Brendon's shirt up over his head, exposing his pale skin to the cool air. Goosebumps dotted Brendon's skin as the elder man tossed the shirt across the room. Ryan peeled his own shirt off, followed by his jeans. Brendon cringed, swallowing hard and starting to sweat. He'd wanted Ryan to stop. He hadn't wanted to do this, which he'd told Ryan in a trembling voice.

The older man pressed his chest against Brendon's, kissing his neck, mumbling, "Yes, you do," against his skin.

"I  _don't_."

Ryan kissed down Brendon's chest, and Brendon's hands grasped the man's thin shoulders, attempting to get him away. But Ryan only kissed lower and lower still until he reached the waist of Brendon's jeans. Ryan pulled away, unbuttoning the jeans and yanking them down, throwing them in a random direction.

"Ryan…" Brendon said, "Ryan,  _stop_."

Ryan ran a finger down Brendon's chest, agonizingly slow.

"Ryan…"

His finger tugged down the waistband of Brendon's underwear, and Brendon squirmed, trying to make Ryan  _stop_.

"Shh," Ryan said, placing a hand over Brendon's mouth and holding it there, hard. Brendon had tried to object, but every word was just a muffled plea.

Ryan worked himself out of his own underwear, letting them fall to the floor as he pressed his lips back on Brendon's skin. Brendon let out a sound, caught between a moan and a cry. Ryan grinned against Brendon's body, a sick grin that made the younger man want to throw up. Ryan lifted his head, lifted his body up, until he was kneeling over Brendon, tracing his long fingers across his chest, his touch like spider webs sticking to the skin. Ryan's fingers swirled lower, over Brendon's stomach, down his leg, until they touched his own flesh, moving from his leg to his hipbone to his cock, and he'd touched himself in front of Brendon with that sickening grin plastered on his face.

Brendon squeezed his eyes shut to the point of seeing stars. His head was beginning to hurt, and he wanted to break down crying, but it would be no use.

Brendon's eyes shot open when Ryan shoved himself inside the younger man, his hold on Brendon's mouth strengthening. Brendon screamed against Ryan's hand, knowing it would do no good, but needing to release the sound as his body tensed in pain. Ryan pulled out nearly all the way, and Brendon had the slightest hope that Ryan would abandon his body completely, leave and never come back. But Ryan slammed back in hard, biting his lip and his eyelids fluttering as he moaned, his fingers curling against Brendon's cheek, nails digging into the younger's skin.

Ryan continued this, pulling out, shoving in, for what had felt like forever, moaning with every other thrust and scraping Brendon's skin with his long fingers still muffling his screams. For what felt like forever, Brendon cried out until his throat was raw, wishing Ryan's hand wasn't there so that someone, somehow, might hear his shrieks, might do something about it. And, for what felt like forever, no one did hear, and no one did do anything about it, and so Brendon had no choice but to stop screaming, stop trying, give up. So he'd lain there, under Ryan, trying his best to remain motionless but finding it hard with Ryan fucking him like this. The only sounds he made were whimpers he couldn't suppress.

Ryan had thrust in, hard, harder than before, arching his back as he came inside Brendon, the moan that escaped his throat sounding inhuman. Brendon opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and shuddered as he watched the sight that accompanied the awful sensation inside him—Brendon could see Ryan's spine as it curved up, so clearly sticking out from his body that Brendon could count each vertebrae. Brendon switched his gaze to the elder's face; Ryan's eyes were squeezed shut, sweat glistening on his forehead, his lip red and swollen from being bitten so much. Brendon swallowed, fighting the urge to lean over the edge of the bed and retch.

Ryan pulled out of Brendon completely, leaving the younger with a horrible empty feeling. He fell apart on Brendon, collapsing onto his chest and removing his hand from his mouth. Brendon gasped, his breath shaky. He began to sob, every inch of his body hurting—his eyes from crying, his throat from screaming, his ass from Ryan fucking him, his cheek from Ryan clawing at him.

"Shh," Ryan said, reaching out to place a finger to Brendon's lips to silence his cries. Brendon flinched, turning his head to the side quickly, never wanting Ryan to touch him again. "What's wrong, Bear?" Ryan asked innocently, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning over the younger's body so that Brendon was forced to look him in the eye.

Brendon struggled to find words as he stared up at Ryan. His face, which, moments ago, looked disgusting and cruel, now looked strangely sincere and innocent. "I… you…"

"Aww, Brenny…" Ryan murmured, touching a finger to Brendon's chin. He kissed the younger's nose, smiling sweetly down at him. Brendon was confused; Ryan never called him Brenny. Only Sarah did.

"Close your eyes," Ryan continued, "and go to sleep."

Brendon had done as he was told, although he wasn't quite sure why, his eyes slipping shut even though they burned. He felt Ryan pull the blanket out from under them. Brendon had to move a bit when Ryan tugged on the blanket, and he felt his body ache in pain. Ryan draped the blanket over Brendon, slipping under it himself, wrapping his arms around the younger man. Brendon felt him breathe a contented sigh as he buried his face into Brendon's neck.

Brendon had forced himself to stay away until he heard Ryan's breathing slow into soft snores; he didn't trust Ryan anymore. And was he was sleeping, Brendon relaxed a little, allowing himself to fall into a much-needed slumber.

And now, here he is, standing in the doorway, watching as Sarah runs, her figure becoming smaller as she gets farther away. He wants more than anything to run after her, run to wherever she is, place a hand on her cheek and wipe her tears away with his thumb. But all he can do now is watch.

Brendon feels a hand on his shoulder, and he realizes Ryan is standing there behind him. Brendon slams the door shut, spinning around to face Ryan.

"Babe, what's wro—" Ryan starts, but he's cut off by Brendon.

"Don't fucking 'babe' me. What the hell is wrong with you? You force me to have sex with you, telling me not to fucking worry, telling me Sarah will never find out. But now she's running away crying, probably hating me." Brendon's voice has risen to yelling, his hands, previously gentle enough to want to calm Sarah down, are now clenched into fists.

Ryan looked somewhat hurt, but he simply says, "Guess now you know what it feels like to have a promise broken." With that, he turns and sits on the couch.

Brendon's expression falls. Ryan is right. What he did to Sarah was awful. He cheated, lied, made her cry. But then, none of it was on purpose. "B-but, you made me break my promise…" he stammers, walking in front of the older man.

"No I didn't, Bear," Ryan answers, offering no explanation. A subtle smile creeps over his lips. He stands up, his body so close to Brendon's that their bodies touch. Ryan snakes his arms around Brendon's waist, his hands resting at the small of the younger's back, kissing his nose. And, although Brendon wants to curl up in a ball and cry, his face buried in his shaking hands, he forces a weak smile.

"See?" Ryan says, smiling himself. His hand slides down to grab the younger's hand, lacing their fingers together. Ryan begins to move toward the bedroom again, and Brendon follows, reluctant, but honestly too tired to object.

Ryan crawls onto the bed, patting the empty space beside him, and Brendon climbs in after him. As soon as Brendon's head touches the pillow he's asleep, his eyes locked shut and his mind drifting. He wants to sleep forever, sleep everything away. But for now all he does is mentally kiss Sarah goodnight, and sleeps, just sleeps.

-

Brendon's eyes open, and the bright light seeping in through the blinds tells him it's well into the afternoon. He turns onto his side to find that Ryan is not there. Brendon should have known this would happen. Ryan had a way of disappearing whenever things got rough. Brendon recalls the fight from years ago, when he'd woken up and Ryan was nowhere to be found.

He sighs to himself, feeling his nose tingle the way it always does when he's about to cry. He blinks back the tears, rising out of bed and stretching his muscles, which still ache from the previous night. It hurt the most to walk, but he does so anyway, dragging his feet to where his clothes were flung the night before, slipping into them gingerly.

Brendon trudges into the living room, grabbing his cell phone from the shelf where he'd set it down prior to answering the door, and sits down on the couch, wincing as he does so. Brendon stares for a moment at his phone's wallpaper—a picture of him and Sarah. In the picture Brendon is kissing Sarah's cheek. Once again he tries not to cry, finding it harder than before.

He skims through the contacts in his phone, reaching Sarah's number, and he hits 'send'. He doesn't know if she'll pick up. He doesn't know if she deleted his number. But he has to try to talk to her, try to tell her what happened.

Each ring of the phone makes Brendon's heart skip a beat. He thinks of what Sarah might be doing on the other line: With the first ring, she sees his name on the caller ID—Brenny, the nickname she'd given him the day they'd met, the nickname no one was allowed to use but her, because he hated the way it sounded unless it was said by her voice. She would sigh. With the second ring, she would contemplate answering or just ignoring the call, ignoring the begs of the lying, cheating man calling her. With the third ring, she would decide to pick up her phone, take the call, brace herself for hearing Brendon's voice, the crap he'll say to defend himself.

Brendon hears a click, indicating that Sarah has picked up. His palms break out into a sweat. "Sarah?"

"What do you want, Brendon?" she asks, her voice slightly raspy, and Brendon knows it means she's been crying.

"I need you to know what happened. I never meant for anything to happen. Ryan showed up and apologized for everything he did, and he hugged me, and that's all it was gonna be. But then he talked me into—"

"Yeah, sure, Brendon, he talked you into it," Sarah snaps, interrupting Brendon. "You have a choice whether or not to go fucking people behind your girlfriend's back. Nobody forces you to say yes."

"But I didn't… he… he just…" Brendon doesn't know what to say that would make any sense, that would properly explain what went on. "Look, I don't know, but I swear, I didn't want to do it. I wanted to keep my promise to you."

"Bullshit, Brendon," Sarah scoffs, "He never made you do anything. You made your own decision, and now the one thing you promised me would never happen, happened." Her voice changes; it sounds more sad than angry. And then Brendon hears a sniffle.  _She's crying_. "I can't believe you, Brendon. You swore you would never go back to him, but… We had something. Something more than just touching and kissing and fucking." Her voice faltered on the last word, and she lets out a sob.

"Sarah, I was r—"

"Fuck off, Brendon."

A click; she hangs up.

So Brendon is left there, mouth agape, and every tear he'd tried so hard to blink back streams down his face, waterfalls in his eyes. He made the girl he loves more than life itself cry. He's beating himself up for doing this to her, but he also  _needs_  her to understand that he'd said no.

Brendon drops his phone, and it falls to the floor but he doesn't care, and he lays his body down on the couch, shaking, whimpering, sobbing and holding his breath to keep from screaming. His arms are lined with goosebumps, his lip quivering. He feels alone. He wishes he could be held by somebody, anybody, be able to weep into their shoulder, have them gently stroke his hair to calm him down. But he has nobody.

He's blaming himself for all that's happened, even though the voice in the back of his head is telling him  _it's not his fault_.

-

Brendon isn't sure if he'd fallen asleep or not. He might have, once or twice or a million times, but he can't remember. He finds himself staring straight ahead of himself, barely conscious.

He can just remember being fairly contented in his trance of sorts—no noise, no movement, no worries. It was as if the world had decided to cut him some slack, give him a break, if only for a while.

Brendon shook out of his daze, once again becoming aware, upon hearing a knock at the door.

He blinks, his eye stinging from staring into space for however long it had been. With cold hands he rubs his eyes, sitting up. He stands and drags himself to the door, and as he does so he wonders when the pain inside his body will fade away, because it sure as hell isn't letting up any time soon.

Reaching the front door he turns the icy brass knob and lets the door swing open, revealing Ryan, standing there with that sickening grin stuck to his face. Suddenly the pain in Brendon's body is gone and is replaced by an entirely new one, an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach, his gut doing backflips. "Hey, Bear," Ryan says, and just the sound of his voice makes Brendon cringe. Ryan takes a step to walk inside, but the younger holds out a hand, stopping him in his tracks.

"Go the  _fuck_  away!" Brendon shrieks, his voice unrecognizably sad and angry and broken. He didn't sound at all like himself. Then again, he didn't feel much like himself, either.

"But Brendon, babe…"

"Fuck off, Ryan. Do you know what the fuck you've done? Because of you Sarah is devastated, probably crying right now, probably wishing me dead or something." he hissed, his voice so foreign, so venomous, that Brendon couldn't believe the words were escaping his own lips.

"What  _I_  did?"

"I said no," Brendon shouts, inches from the elder's face, just close enough that Ryan would be able to see the scratches on his cheek from where his fingers had dug into his skin, the redness around his eyes from when Ryan had made him cry. "But you covered my mouth and you fucking  _raped_  me."

Silence, and then Ryan scoffs. "Yeah. Sure, Bren. I raped you." Sarcasm seeps cruelly into each word he speaks. "Why don't you tell that to your precious little girlfriend?" With that, Ryan, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath, turns and walks out the door.

"I can't because she fucking hates me!" Brendon screeches after him, not caring who hears. He slams the door shut as hard as he can, and breaks down. He crumples to the floor, his back against the door. His knees are pulled as close to his chest as he can get them without feeling the ache in his ass where Ryan fucked him, and he buries his face in his hands and cries. The only thought on his mind, the only thing he wants, is to die.

-

When Brendon opens his eyes, he's staring up at the familiar white cobwebbed ceiling of his bedroom. He shifts, realizing he's tucked under the blankets, his head resting comfortably on a pillow. He rolls his head to the side to find Sarah sifting through a dresser drawer, picking out her clothes from the mix.

"Sarah?" Brendon croaks out, but Sarah doesn't turn around. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low and raspy.

"Just getting my things," Sarah answers, still not turning to face him. Sarah sounds as if she's trying her hardest to keep her voice from faltering. Brendon gets a feeling in his stomach, his heart fallen.

He sighs to himself.  _She's leaving_ , he thinks.  _Leaving me, leaving for good_. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow, a small whimper escaping him in the process. Sarah turns to him, a confused look on her face.  _Wondering why I'm the one upset about this_ , he guesses. He can't hold back a tear that trickles from the corner of his eye down past his temple.

Sarah shakes her head. "You did this to yourself, Brendon."

"No…"

She turns on her heel, walking out the door, keeping much more composure than she had walking the same way just two nights prior.

"No, no, no…" Brendon manages to whisper as the lump in his throat swells, his lip quivering. He climbs out of bed and walks after her. "Sarah…"

Brendon stops in his tracks when he sees Sarah, almost out the front door, her small hands carrying several bags, which Brendon knows hold all her belongings that previously inhabited Brendon's house.

"Save it, Brendon." Sarah says as she struggles to squeeze her bags through the door frame.

"He raped me."

Sarah stops moving. Silence rings through the space between her and Brendon. A moment passes, and in that moment Brendon looks into Sarah's eyes; he thinks he can see sorrow, sympathy, worry.

But his expression falls when Sarah scoffs, slightly shaking her head, and says, "Making up stories?" She yanks the last of her bags outside with a forceful tug. And, before she slams the door shut behind her, she utters one final word: "Pathetic."

**Author's Note:**

> [Part two](http://archiveofourown.org/works/688283)


End file.
